


Migraines Are A Bitch

by Milla_GSD



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Author is disabled, Chronic Pain, Disabled Crowley, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milla_GSD/pseuds/Milla_GSD
Summary: It's the night of the End of the World and Crowley feels a migraine starting. It's been a terribly long day and he no longer has the energy to fight it off.Aziraphale is there though, and Crowley leans heavily on the angel as they head back to his place. The pain only gets worse, but will Crowley actually allow himself to take Aziraphale's help?





	Migraines Are A Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while having a migraine. Go figure.

“I supposed I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop.”

The words register with Crowley very slowly, the ache that is starting in his head making him sluggish. When he finally does answer, his words come out softly as he stares at his angel. “It burned down, remember?”

Aziraphale looks up at him and Crowley can only watch as the words take effect, the angel remembering events he wasn’t even there for. As his eyes flit away, Crowley feels himself break slightly at the pain that flashes over the being’s face.

“You can stay at my place, if you like,” Crowley whispers, the words falling from his mouth like a prayer, so full of hope and desire he’s almost afraid of the response he will get. In true angel fashion, Aziraphale brings up sides once again, but Crowley knows it’s a reflex at this point, the need to stay loyal still strong even after everything that has happened to them.

Aziraphale gives him a small smile and Crowley can’t help but notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Not that Crowley blames him, his own thoughts turning towards his burned out husk of a car that was left at the airfield. They both lost a lot in only a few hours, but at least they still have this, Crowley thinks to himself as he leans ever so slightly against his angel. Before either man can say anything, a bus pulls up and the two men pull themselves off of their bench and make their way on to it, squinting against the harsh artificial light.

Crowley takes the window seat, immediately leaning his head against the glass. It’s going to be a very long ride and the events of the day are starting to hit him all at once as his body’s adrenaline fades away. He barely feels Aziraphale’s leg pressed against his own within the confines of the bus seats, his eyes closing behind his dark glasses. At this point, he’s just hoping he can make it back home without completely losing it, but sleep sounds like such a good idea right now...

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks softly, Crowley’s name falling from his lips like it’s the most holy thing under the sun, and Crowley manages to turn his head so he’s looking at the being next to him.

“Yes angel?” he whispers back, his energy levels waning with every unnecessary breath. Sleep calls for him with every passing second and Crowley does his best to continue to fight it off, even as a pressure starts to build even more his eyes, his head starting to scream. He fights off a sigh, knowing it’s going to be a long night.

Crowley watches as Aziraphale seems to take Crowley’s state in and he watches as the worry starts to build in the angel’s eyes, replacing some of the sadness that resides there. “Are you alright, my dear?”

Taking a deep breath, Crowley does his best to relax further into his seat, debating on if he has the energy left for one more small miracle. The seats are a bloody tight fit when you have the legs of a giraffe, he muses, and it wouldn’t take much to make them that much wider. Deciding against it, Crowley only continues to stare at Aziraphale. “I’m fine, angel. Jussst a little tired,” he hisses out, unable to stop it before it starts and he has to hold back a sigh.

“Right,” Aziraphale says, but Crowley can hear the worry in his words and knows the angel didn’t miss the slip. “It has been a very long day,” he continues. “What with the end of the world and everything. That little trick you pulled, by the way, amazing, really-”

“Sssave it for home, angel,” Crowley interrupts gently, eyebrows raising above the rim of his glasses. It’s a subtle hint, but it’s all Aziraphale needs to be reminded of their current surroundings.

“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale mumbles, words falling off and Crowley feels a weird pang in his chest. Before he has a chance to really think on it though, the bus hits a particularly nasty bump that has Crowley’s head slamming against the window with a very loud crack. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, but stills as he feels a hand land on his arm. “Are you sure you’re alright?” Aziraphale asks quickly as his grip on Crowley’s arm tightens slightly.

“M’fine, promissse,” Crowley replies as he pulls away from the window enough to rub the back of his head. “Used a lot of energy today, jussst a little drained....”Aziraphale only gives him a look that grows more worried by the second and Crowley wants to grumble at it, not used to being looked at this way for too long. “Really, I’m fine, angel.”

Aziraphale hums softly but doesn’t take his eyes away from the demon and Crowley can only hold the gaze for a few moments before turning his head, trying to get as comfortable as possible against the glass again. It isn’t long before the bus hits another bump, knocking Crowley’s head even harder. The increasing pressure behind his eyes grows and spreads, and Crowley has to hold back a groan as he leans forward into his hands, elbows landing on his knees. The hand on his arm tightens again and Crowley almost snarls at the angel next to him to get him to let go, but before he can, he feels himself being pulled towards the white haired man instead.

He doesn’t even have a chance to get any words out as the hand pulling him let’s go and the arm snakes around his shoulders instead. The hand comes up and rests against his temple, pulling him even closer, and Crowley let’s himself fall against Aziraphale’s shoulder. His entire body tightens up, instantly wanting to pull away from the gentle touch that he is in no way used to. As his body tightens again, ready to do just that, Aziraphale’s hand against his temple moves further up and starts rubbing circles against his scalp.

Crowley doesn’t move and has to push back another groan, but this time, one of pleasure as Aziraphale pushes his fingers harder against Crowley’s skull. It’s exactly what he needs right now with his building migraine, and a part of him can’t seem to believe who it’s coming from. “Relax, my dear,” Aziraphale tells him softly, almost as if he can sense the apprehension Crowley is feeling at this moment. “I’ll wake you when we get there, promise,” the angel continues, and Crowley feels his chest clench at the words.

A few heart beats later, and Crowley finally allows himself to melt into the angel’s touch, his whole body relaxing more than would seem possible for a normal human. He has had a very truly long day, and every fiber of his being aches in ways he didn’t even know was possible. From where Aziraphale’s fingers work against his head though, Crowley feels it all start to loosen up, and he can’t help but sigh, ghosting his breath against the skin of Aziraphale’s neck as he relaxes further.

If he didn’t fall asleep almost instantly, he might have noticed the shiver that courses through Aziraphale, or the way the arm around him tightens that much more.

Crowley feels himself being roused what feels like only moments later. Blearily, he blinks against the harsh light of the bus, his glasses only giving him the smallest of comforts as his head throbs harder than ever.

“Time to get off, dear,” Aziraphale whispers to him, and Crowley can only groan as his head lolls forward, unable to hold it back any longer. Aziraphale is moving against him though, and Crowley feels himself start to slide as the other gets up. A strong arm catches him before he can fall too much and Crowley leans heavily on it as he pulls himself unsteadily to his feet.

They slowly make their way off of the bus, the fare magically paid for, and end up on the sidewalk outside of Crowley’s apartment building. Taking a deep breath, Crowley steals himself for the walk inside, but before he can take a step, his head throbs again and he feels himself sway. An arm is around his back before he can lose his balance though, and Crowley feels his breath catch even as he has to close his eyes against the pain.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks softly, and Crowley can hear the worry in his friend’s voice. Knowing the angel, he’s holding a lot back right now, hoping Crowley will tell him in his own time most likely. Crowley can only grit his teeth and close his eyes as the pain grows the longer they stand there.

“Insssside, pleasssse,” he hisses out, losing all control of his voice at this point. The migraine building is too much, and it’s only going to get worse the longer he goes without sleep. “I’ll explain, but only insssside...”

Aziraphale takes this as a good enough answer apparently, and Crowley feels himself being quickly - but ever so gently - moved inside. He can’t help the gratitude that grows in his chest. At this point, all he wants to do is curl up into a ball somewhere and it takes everything he has left to follow the man next to him. Belatedly, he realizes he’s never even shown Aziraphale where he lives, but when the angel presses the button to his floor with no hesitation once they reach the elevator, Crowley can’t help the small smile that grows on his lips. Of course the angel knows where he lives.

It doesn’t take them much longer to get inside of Crowley’s apartment, and Crowley almost whines as he is finally allowed to fall into blessed darkness. The sounds dies in his throat though, and Crowley almost smiles for being able to keep some small part of his dignity intact right now. He reaches a hand out for the wall next to him, needing something to steady himself as he pulls away from Aziraphale.

“Are you sure...?” Aziraphale asks next to him. Crowley takes a deep breath, his other hand coming up to press against his forehead. “Let me help,” he hears Aziraphale start, and Crowley can feel his teeth grind at the words.

“I’m not helplessss angel,” he growls out, instantly regretting the words. He knows his angel is only trying to help, knows it’s the pain talking, but he can’t help it. He’s overly tired, strung out. Everything in him aches, down to the bone, and he’s always been prone to snapping. On top of all of that, the shivers are starting, his body starting to lose it’s ability to keep it’s own heat in anymore.

“I know you aren’t, dear,” Aziraphale says softly, and something breaks in Crowley’s heart. “You’ve never been helpless, but that doesn’t mean you can’t ever take help from anyone.”

He’s right, Crowley knows he’s right, and yet it still takes entirely too much effort for him to pull himself away from the wall, whether out of pride or pain he isn’t really quite sure at this point. Aziraphale quickly wraps an arm back around his demon and Crowley feels himself instantly leaning back into him. Heat pours off of the angel and Crowley leans even harder into him, needing the warmth as well as the support. “Bedroom’ssss thissss way...” Crowley mumbles out, words slurring worse by the minute.

The two men slowly make their way through Crowley’s apartment, taking it one step at a time. As they reach the dark room, Crowley feels part of Aziraphale relax as he takes in the sight of the bed, and it dawns on Crowley that the angel used a lot of energy today as well, both pushing themselves dangerously to their limits. Crowley feels himself leaning even more into Aziraphale, no longer able to hold his own body weight even remotely upright any more.

“You did so wonderfully today, dear,” Aziraphale whispers at him, and Crowley feels his heart clench again. “Truly amazing.”

Crowley feels his hand tighten softly on his angel, fingers gripping the soft fabric of Aziraphale’s worn coat. “M’demon, member?” Crowley flinches as his words slur even more, but as the pain in his head grows, he can barely get the words out at all, let alone coherently. “Not ssssupposed to be wonderful...”

Without even looking at him, Crowley knows Aziraphale is smiling down at him and Crowley accepts the warmth that grows in him, even as another bout of shivers over takes him. “If you say so,” Aziraphale replies. “Now, do you think you can sit on the bed, so I can help you out?”

Crowley groans at the question, the thought of having to hold himself up for any length of time overwhelming, but it’s his angel asking and he’ll always try to do whatever Aziraphale asks of him. “I’ll try,” Crowley finally mumbles out.

Aziraphale nods and the two stumble over to the edge of the bed. Crowley allows himself to be turned and then feels Aziraphale gently lowering him to the bed until he is sitting on the edge. The arm around him starts to pull away and Crowley silently mourns the loss of the warmth and support, the pain stealing all off his warmth. “Pleasssse... don’t go...” he hears himself say, the words falling from his mouth in a hush before he can stop them.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” Aziraphale swiftly replies in a manner of fact tone. “Now, can I take these, just for a moment?”

Crowley feels a hand hovering around his sunglasses and part of him sneers at the idea of losing the one thing that’s helping keep the light away from his aching eyes. He also knows Aziraphale will never do anything to cause him harm and after a few heartbeats, he nods to his angel. The sunglasses slip easily away from his face, but his sensitive eyes catch the change in the light quickly and he leans forward, closing them against the darkened room.

Raising his hands, Crowley buries his face in them, fingers threading through his hair, pulling on the ginger strands. “It hurtssss...” he hisses out through clenched teeth and never has he wanted so badly to disappear.

“Hang on dear, let’s just get you out of these clothes and then you can rest,” Aziraphale says softly, voice barely reaching Crowley in the state he is in.

Crowley tries his best to not make it harder on Aziraphale, knowing his friend has always been sensitive to the pain of those around him. When he feels the jacket being pushed ever so gently down his shoulders, Crowley lowers his hands and let’s it be pulled off of him. The pain of his migraine takes it one step further and lights all of his nerves on fire and even the soft slide of his jacket has him shivering in pain.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale whispers and Crowley wants to tell him to shut up, remind him that he isn’t doing this on purpose. He can’t find his words anymore though.

Once the jacket is off of his shoulders, Crowley leans his head forward, needing a second to breathe. Even though it’s such a simple action - and most of the work was done for him - it leaves him struggling as if he’s run a mile. When he’s had a moment to gather himself again, Crowley gives a soft nod, knowing the angel in front of him will understand.

“Shirt next,” Aziraphale mumbles, and oh, the emotion hiding in those words has Crowley reeling. “Arms up, my dear.”

Crowley shivers again as he feels Aziraphale’s fingers skirt the edge of his shirt, worried what it will feel like when the material slides over his skin that already feels as if it’s on fire. The pounding in his head grows as he moves stiff muscles that don’t really feel like listening, and he braces himself as Aziraphale pulls the cotton over his aching head.

Once again, the feeling of something sliding over his skin has Crowley’s body trembling, his entire being aching as the pain swells behind his eyes. The chill in the air cools him even more and the shivers become unstoppable. It’s all becoming too much and Crowley just wants it stop, wishes he could will it out of existence, but he knows from experience he can’t. He’s tried so many times before, tried to force the migraines away, but his efforts only left him exhausted and still in pain. Vaguely, Crowley hears the shirt land on the floor next to the bed and he almost finds the energy to raise an eyebrow at the thought of his angel being untidy for once.

“Let’s at least get those boots off next, ok?” Aziraphale asks and Crowley wants to groan at the idea of having to deal with more stuff touching and moving on his skin. At this point though, everything that’s still touching him burns, and even though he doesn’t want to feel it moving against him, just sitting here wearing it hurts.

“I jussst need.... a moment...” he pants out, his words still hissing softly. He’s usually so good at hiding it, but there’s no way today, not with how tired he is, let alone the pain still growing. His head feels like it’s in a vice, the pressure spreading everywhere and no longer focused to just behind his eyes. The room spins around him every time he moves and Crowley is now having to fight down the waves of nausea that are rolling through him.

“Of course, take your time,” Aziraphale tells him and Crowley can’t believe how much that means to him.

Crowley feels himself leaning again, but this time, a hand lands on the back of his head, pulling him closer until his forehead lands on something warm and soft. Bracing for the pain of being touched, Crowley let’s out a shaky breath after a few heartbeats when none comes.

“I’m here,” Aziraphale whispers, his free hand coming up to caress the demon’s cheek gently.

Leaning into the touch, Crowley reminds himself to breath once again as the fingers cradling his head start digging in again, rubbing small circles against his skull. “Oh, angel...” he breaths out and sighs when the fingers continue their motions.

He isn’t sure how much time passes before Aziraphale whispers to him again. “Ready to keep going?” his angel asks and Crowley feels that warmth in his chest grow that much more.

Crowley takes a few more deep breaths before finally nodding, wishing he just had the energy to miracle this all away. Obviously Aziraphale is low on energy himself, since the angel has yet to do it either and Crowley vaguely remembers that the man has also had a long day. Aziraphale pulls back slowly, giving Crowley time to get ready to support himself again, before kneeling in front of the demon.

Finding himself eye to eye with the angel, Crowley pulls his eyes open that much more, suddenly needing the eye contact his companion gives him. The deep blue call to him, grounding him more and more the longer he stares into them and Crowley nods slowly once he’s sure he’s as ready as he’s going to be. Aziraphale smiles at him softly, almost sadly, as he knows the next few actions are going to cause Crowley discomfort once again, but Crowley can’t bring himself to care about what’s to come.

Aziraphale works quickly once he breaks eye contact, and Crowley has to close his eyes as his skin burns, nerves on fire even as the cold sets in deeper. It’s nothing as bad as the pain he felt thousands of years ago, when he was consumed by fire, but it’s definitely up there. He’s used to the migraines at this point, has learned to look for the signs, but with the day he has had, this one came up on him entirely too quickly to prepare for it. Crowley is at the mercy of his own pain tolerance at this point, his human body fighting against this at every turn, but Crowley knows it will fade away again eventually, given enough time.

“There, that should be better,” Aziraphale tells him once all of Crowley’s clothes have been removed (except for the black boxer briefs that hug him snugly) and Crowley feels his breath coming sharp and quickly. Arms wrap around his torso, the angel still kneeling in front of him, and Crowley leans forward until he lands against Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Is this ok?” Aziraphale asks, one of his hands rubbing circles into Crowley’s back.

Even as everything else has caused him to be on fire, the touch of his angel against his bare skin has him shivering as he relaxes slightly, once again soaking himself in the warmth radiating from Aziraphale. His head is all consuming pain at this point, but the hand on his back gives him a focus point, drawing his attention away from the it even minimally. Realizing Aziraphale is still waiting for an answer, Crowley brings himself to nod gently against the angel’s shoulder. “S’fine, Zzzzira...” he manages to say, drawing out the angel’s name even as he tries to shorten it.

“Whenever you’re ready again,” Aziraphale starts, ignoring the nickname Crowley has never used before. “Let’s get you actually in the bed, ok?”

The soothing circles on his back never stop and Crowley can’t bring himself to pull away. Even as he wants so badly to just stay where he is, Crowley realizes slowly that Aziraphale is still kneeling in front of him and his floors aren’t exactly the softest thing in the world. With a soft moan, Crowley pulls himself away from the comfort of his angel’s embrace, hating the idea that Aziraphale would be uncomfortable because of him in any way.

Once he’s pulled back far enough, Crowley catches the blue eyes in front of him again. No matter how many years he has spent looking into them, he still feels his breath hitch at their glow. It doesn’t take long though before the room starts spinning again and Crowley has to close his eyes against the feeling that washes over him, his stomach lurching harshly. He reaches a hand out to Aziraphale, needing something to steady himself, but the room keeps on spinning and all thought of being able to move himself goes out the window.

“Angel...” he croaks out, voice thick and pain filled.

He’s barely even finished the last syllable before strong arms wrap around him, cradling him to a strong, soft chest. Even though he has always known his angel is strong and mighty, it still catches Crowley off guard whenever Aziraphale displays his strength in any way since the angel always appears so gentle. He feels himself being carried around the edge of the bed, being moved towards the side of the bed, and he has no energy to feel even slightly embarrassed by the idea of being carried.

The embarrassed feeling doesn’t last for long though, as he is slowly lowered down onto the bed. The silk sheets rub against Crowley’s skin, softer than his clothes, are not irritating his skin nearly as badly but still not entirely gentle either. Once he feels Aziraphale’s arms retreat, Crowley curls in on himself. His arms come up to encase his head, hands once again tearing at his hair. His migraine has yet to dissipate in any sense, the pain only growing with every passing moment. He knows the only thing that will make it disappear at this point is time, but Crowley doesn’t even know how long he can handle this amount of pain anymore, especially considering how utterly exhausted he is.

A soft keen builds in his throat, pushing it’s way past his lips even as he fights to hold it in, yet Crowley can’t find the energy to be embarrassed by it. Vaguely, Crowley feels his bed dip behind him and Crowley registers arms once again circling him, pulling him in close. “You’re going to be ok, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispers gently. “The pain will fade, you’re stronger than it ever will be.”

Crowley groans, wanting so badly to believe his angel’s words. “It hurtssss so much...”

“I know, love, truly...” Aziraphale tells him, breath ghosting over Crowley’s skin.

It takes a few moments, but Crowley finally registers exactly what the other said. He slowly opens his eyes, squinting in the soft light. Forcing himself to relax, Crowley uncurls just enough to turn around in the angel’s arms. Without even looking at the other, Crowley buries his face in the angel’s chest, vaguely aware that the other has striped down as well.

“Your clothes were hurting you,” Aziraphale explains softly, almost as if he can hear Crowley’s thoughts. “I didn’t want mine to hurt you as well.”

Crowley has to choke back a chuckle, the thought of someone caring that much scaring him more than he realizes. He isn’t sure why, at least not someone like Aziraphale caring about him. He’s known the angel for more than six thousand years, been through so much with the other being, so why would knowing for a fact that Aziraphale cares about him be scary?

Instead of actually facing those thoughts, he only pushes his face further into Aziraphale’s chest the warmth calling to him. It’s too much for him right now and he feels entirely too useless at the moment to deal with wholesome thoughts at all. “You know,” Aziraphale mumbles, pulling Crowley away from thoughts and feelings he doesn’t know how to process at the moment. “You were so strong today.”

Well, there goes that idea.

“What ever do you mean,” Crowley grumbles out, his head swimming as he pulls back just enough to look the angel in the eye again.

Aziraphale gives him a soft smile and Crowley feels an arm snake around his back. Fingers once again thread through his hair, massaging his scalp, and Crowley feels his eyes roll back slightly. “You did so much today, so much to protect all of us. It’s no wonder why you’re so tired, my dear.” Aziraphale’s words wash over him and Crowley does his best to listen without passing out finally. Under Aziraphale’s ministrations, he’s finally starting to relax and Crowley finds he’s starting to finally fall asleep.

“You did a lot too...” Crowley hears himself whisper in response.

“Yes, but nothing like you did,” Aziraphale replies, and Crowley forces himself to stay awake, if only to hear where Aziraphale is going with this. “Not only did you keep the Bentley going long enough to even reach the air base while it was on fire, you managed to face Satan himself, you do realize that right?”

Oh does Crowley ever remember. Remembers falling to his knees, losing all balance as the world rocked under them all. The demonic energy that pulled at him was stronger than anything he had ever felt before, more painful than anything he could have ever imagined it would be. And Crowley had forced that pain down long enough to hear his angel tell him he would stop talking to him, stop being his friend, unless he did something. So Crowley did something.

“I couldn’t lossse you...”

“I know, love, I know,” Aziraphale whispers softly, and Crowley shudders as the word once again washes over him. “You were so great, truly. I never would have left you though, I’m sorry I ever said that to you.”

Crowley reaches out, his arms wrapping around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling himself closer. The fingers against his head are still working, rubbing just hard enough without being painful. “I didn’t...”

“It’s ok, Crowley,” Aziraphale interrupts, as if he can sense the spiral of self doubt Crowley is falling in to. “You were amazing, and I don’t know what any of us would have done if you hadn’t been there. Of course you’re exhausted, and yet you just kept on pushing, kept on trying to protect and save all of us.”

Crowley is shaking now, the words of endearment causing his chest to clench so hard, he is afraid something inside of him is going to break. He’s not used to this, not any of it, and it’s starting to grow too much for the demon. Gasping, Crowley nuzzles deeper against Aziraphale, hot tears spilling from his eyes. Between the pain and the emotions he is not used to feeling, Crowley can no longer hold them back, unable to keep on pretending that there’s nothing wrong with him. It’s too much for his demon soul to handle, but that doesn’t seem to be stopping the angel next to him.

“Not to mention, even before all of that, before you ever made it to Tadfield, you had to deal with the fire...” Aziraphale continues, pushing Crowley’s emotional instability even further. “I’m so sorry I made you think I was gone, I truly never meant to scare you like that. I got back to you as soon as I could...”

Crowley is afraid he’s going to shake apart at this point. The memory of the fire washes over him and he can’t help but shudder even harder. Aziraphale’s arms only wrap tighter around him, holding him closer than Crowley thought he could ever get to the angel. “I wassss... I couldn’t...”

“Shh...” Aziraphale shushes as soon as Crowley starts to struggle to get the words out and Crowley once again silently thanks him for knowing him so well. “I’m here now, we’re both here now. We survived, and we will survive what’s next.”

Crowley feels himself nod slowly, only a couple of times, but the shaking continues. Aziraphale’s words finally die off, for the moment anyways, and Crowley tries to calm himself down, using the hand that is still rubbing against his scalp as a focal point. He isn’t sure how much time passes before the shakes finally stop, before the pressure in his head finally, blessedly, releases enough for the room to stop spinning.

“It’s going to be ok, love,” Aziraphale says after a long time. The word, that last word, has Crowley shuddering again, his body reacting to the emotion that’s packed tightly into that single syllable. “We are going to get through whatever trials are awaiting us, and then we have all of eternity stretching before us.”

As Crowley tries to find some words, any words, to answer his angel, they die in his throat as he feels Aziraphale moving above him, lips pressing against his forehead. Crowley can’t quite believe what’s happening, can’t quite wrap his head around what Aziraphale is doing. Mostly, he’s just scared he’s going to ruin the moment by once again moving too fast in some way.

Aziraphale pulls away eventually, in his own time, and Crowley feels his breath catch as Aziraphale maneuvers himself so he can look the demon in the eye. “I will never again make you think you’ve lost me,” the angel whispers, and Crowley only has a moment to prepare himself as Aziraphale moves towards him.

His breath catches as Aziraphale’s lips press against his own, softly, gently, as if the angel is afraid Crowley is going to break, and Crowley is almost convinced he is going to at this point. Eyes fluttering closed, Crowley pushes softly into the kiss, returning it with what little energy he has to offer, his heart pounding in his chest. The kiss only lasts for a few moments, but to Crowley, it seems to stretch on for hours. Aziraphale pulls away slowly, once again cradling Crowley against his chest.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer through this pain by yourself for so long,” Aziraphale tells him, Crowley pulling himself out of his own head long enough to register the words that are being said to him. “You’ve dealt with these migraines for a long time, haven’t you?”

Crowley nods, knowing it isn’t really an actual question at this point. “Since the very beginning,” he answers, and part of him realizes he didn’t hiss for the first time in hours.

“You will never have to go through it alone, ever again,” Aziraphale repeats, his voice breaking ever so slightly.

Crowley can’t quite believe what he is hearing, but at this point, he is so overwhelmed, he isn’t sure he can believe anything anymore. “Angel, don’t ever leave me...” he hears himself whispering, voice wrecked.

“Never,” he hears Aziraphale answer, and it isn’t long after that the demon finally succumbs to the pull of sleep, his pains slowly melting away. If the night stretches on longer than it should while the demon is held safely by the angel, it is never mentioned by a single soul, human or otherwise.


End file.
